I grin, rubbing my hand over my mouth. “They’re not. But she is.”
“Then I guess I can’t let the man die on the table?”
A chuckle slips past my lips. “Not worth the resulting lawsuit. They’re everything you always warned us about.”
“But not her.”
Even though it wasn’t a question, I answer, “But not her.”
“Then go to the compound and reassure her that her father won’t die tonight. I’ve given Fairchild the all clear, but I think Stella is still a bit shaken up.”
“I’m on it and thank you.”
“Anything for you, my boy. Anything.” He slaps my shoulder, then goes straight for the trauma room. “Mr. and Mrs. Wilde, I’m Dr. Fritz. That is all you’re allowed to call me, and I will not tell you my first name. You’re lucky my son cares enough about your daughter to even bother bringing me in here tonight to save your life.”
I laugh as my father keeps going, but I don’t care enough to stay and listen. My ladies are waiting for me.
30
I feel so strange being here after everything that happened today. Stella and I were whisked away like the first family under an immediate national security threat. They’re the Abbot-Fritzes, and they’re not normal people. I realize this, but I guess I just didn’t realize this. I mean, who has a security team on speed dial?
That was a trip.
That and my father dropping dead on my front lawn. That was something too.
I expect Octavia Fritz to hate me on principle. She should. My family threatened her family today. But the second Stella is done hugging her grandmother and relaying what went down, the beautiful woman with the adorable blond wig parts her arms like the Red Sea and envelops me in a crushing hug like I’m the Egyptians who were racing after the Israelites.
I’m not sure that makes sense, but it’s been a day, and I think a modicum of slack should be awarded my way.
“You are everything Luca and Stella said you are and more.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “With the exception of Stella, that’s not as comforting as you might think it should be.”
She laughs, her green eyes sparkling, and now I know where her boys—except Carter, whose eyes resemble decadent dark chocolate—and daughter get it.
“No. I imagine it is not. Luca was always my troublemaker. But he’d never say anything he didn’t mean, and everything he told me about you was not only kind, it appears was right on the money.”
Money. I flinch at that, and she notices, giving me the warmest of smiles as if to say, you’re okay now, you’re one of us. Landon told me the other night about his mom. How worried he is about her health. How scared he is of losing her. I had told him once that I’d take his mother over mine any day, and now more than ever, I mean that.
She is the family glue, lovely and gracious and kind.
“Are you worried about your dad?” Stella asks as they lead me through the house—house is a loose term for palace—until we reach some sort of room that’s not quite a dining room but clearly some meals are eaten here. A breakfast room? “You don’t have to be. My dad will save him.”
Oddly enough, I’m not worried about my dad. I mean, I don’t want him to die. I’m not that sort of evil. But I don’t want to hear from him again so…
“I have no doubt your dad will save him.”
“And my grandpa. He went to help too.”
Great. I’m sure that will fly like reindeer at Christmas in this family. “Will he be upset about working so late into the evening?”
Octavia—she insisted I call her that—places a hand on my forearm. “The man lives for surgery. Since I became ill, he’s unfortunately had to cut back his hours, so having any excuse to cut someone open, he’ll take.”
Oh. Well. I’m not sure what to say to that. Evidently, my father is getting cut open tonight, and my boyfriend’s father is doing it. What a motherfucking day.
“Are you hungry?” a woman wearing black slacks, a white button-down blouse, and a soft smile comes in and asks. “I’m Sophia. The Fritz family’s chef. Stella’s been telling me you’ve been teaching her to cook.”
I blink and stand up, somehow feeling like I’m stealing this woman’s thunder with that, though I think that might be in my head since she seems genuinely delighted by this. “Yes. Every Monday and Wednesday.”
“We should do a lesson here. All together. I’d love to be part of it.”
“You would?”
She laughs at my flabbergasted expression. “Of course. It would be fun. We’ll have Layla come too and make a party out of it. From what my little birdy here has told me, her uncles and aunt are very jealous they haven’t gotten to taste any of her creations.”
I’m totally about to start crying. “I’d love that.”
“Wonderful.” Sophia gives me an even brighter and warmer smile than she was two seconds ago. “So… hungry?” She checks with the other two women I’m with.
“Starved. Like… could eat a bear starved.”
Sophia rolls her eyes at Stella. “Tell me something new, kid. But dinner is ready unless we’re waiting on Dr. Fritz and Dr. Landon.”
Dr. Landon sounds so weird and formal, but I guess she’s the family chef, so it makes sense? I don’t know. I have zero frames of reference with this kind of money. These people put rich people to shame.
“I believe Dr. Fritz and Landon will join us later. Would you mind putting supper together for us?”
“Not at all. I’ll be right back with it.” She winks at Stella, then leaves. And wow. Just wow. These people are the nicest ever. Not a snooty bone among them. I hate that that’s precisely what I envisioned despite having met the other Fritzes, but yeah.
I fall back into my chair, staring out the back window at the magnificent grounds that seem to go on forever. That is until a hand over mine startles me back to the room. “A drink, dear?”
“Does it sound bad if I say yes?”
Octavia laughs, and it reminds me so much of when Rina did. They look so much alike, and I hope I get to know Rina better.
“Not at all.” She rises out of her chair and now I feel awful. I assumed she’d have someone do it for her, but nope, this woman is walking across the room—it’s a freaking mammoth room for what is likely a third eating room—over to a bar I hadn’t previously noticed.”
“What’s your poison?”
“I will honestly drink whatever you’re making.”
“Stella, should we give her our special Shirley Temples?”
Ummm… that’s not exactly what I was hoping for.
“I think she’d love them,” Stella replies, and now I can’t say a word.
“Mine is adjusted slightly from Stella’s, and I’ll make yours the same. Does that sound all right?”
Oh, Octavia Fritz. You are a very special woman. “That sounds wonderful.”
“I figured you’d agree with that.” She returns with three glasses—crystal glasses on a silver tray, no joke—for all of us. “This one is yours, my sweet.” She places the very obvious Shirley Temple in front of Stella. “These are ours, Ellery, but yours might have an extra punch of ginger beer in it.” She winks conspiratorially at me, and I think I love Landon’s mother.